The Secrets of Starpoint Mountain

by Bill Albert

  Before the sun rose the next morning Gallif awoke slowly. It had been a long sleep, but very disturbing as the nightmares of the night her parents were killed and the images of meeting some man in a bar kept coming to her. She listened to Maura’s breathing for several minutes and then slipped out of the bed and went to the chair. She sat there, deep in thought, and soon Maura rose and looked at her.

  Without a word Maura went to the dresser and found a small hairbrush in a drawer. She came and sat on the edge of the bed and motioned for Gallif to turn the chair around. After she did so, Maura slowly started to brush through Gallif’s tangled red strands.

  As she worked Gallif thought how comfortable it was to be with this woman. She had had female friends before, but she had felt a connection with Maura that she couldn’t deny. She also could not understand it. It was a feeling, an attraction, to connect with this woman like she had never felt before. Was it right?

  She wondered if the shock of Tome’s death brought these odd feelings to the surface. It was entirely possible, but as she thought about when she met Maura, before she’d met and had sex with Tome, she could tell that there had been something there. All she knew about it was that it felt good to be with her.

  She tried her best to avoid it, but somewhere in the shadow of this emotion, there was a fear. An unknown fear that she would have to face.

  Finally, Maura finished straightening out Gallif’s hair and returned the brush to the drawer. She turned and looked back at Gallif without saying a word.

  Gallif stood and walked close to her, felt their bodies touch. She gently ran a finger along Maura’s cheek and looked into her eyes. Before she could do anything else Maura pulled her close and kissed her on the lips. They looked at each other and knew that it had been the right thing to do.

  With nothing to say Maura turned away and left the room.

  Gallif returned to the chair and sat unmoving for another hour.

  Finally, there was a light tapping at the door. To her surprise, when she answered it, she came face to face with the familiar looking Bitran’s daughter. Her hair was bright and clean and she was carrying a cloth bag and a wooden box.

  “Hello,” she said shyly. “My name is Ellis.”

  “Hello, I’m Gallif.”

  “Yes,” she smiled, “I remember it from last night.”

  “Of course, I’m sorry,” Gallif smiled feebly.

  “They spent most of the night clearing out the barns, so the bodies are gone. We checked the cellar and it’s back to normal as well. The estate has been closed to visitors, so it is safe to come out now.”

  “Thank you,” Gallif leaned against the door. “I appreciate it.”

  “Can I come in? One of the servants was bringing up your clothes, but I decided to deliver them myself,” she said as she indicated the items she was holding.

  Gallif opened the door all the way and allowed Ellis to enter the room. She set the containers on the bed and pulled open the bag. She handed her the personal items and clothes that Gallif had left in the bathroom the night before. The shirt she wore under the armor had been damaged beyond repair and replaced.

  “Is the other one my armor?” she asked suspiciously.

  “No, it was pretty badly...stained. It’ll take some time to get clean.”

  Gallif’s shoulders dropped as she let out a long sigh. She didn’t like the thought of wearing the blood-stained armor but knew how dangerous it would be to go without protection. Before she could ask to have it returned, Ellis opened up the box and Gallif gasped in surprise.

  “This belonged to my father,” Ellis said. “If you are going to try to find what happened to him I’d like you to have it.”

  From the bag she pulled some of the most finely crafted leather armor Gallif had ever seen. There was a distinct red tint to it, and she ran her fingers across the chest layers.

  “I don’t know if I can take this,” Gallif said.

  “I don’t know exactly what is going on here,” Ellis said. “But I saw some of the most horrible things in that cell, and heard what was in the barn, so I know you’ll need as much protection as you can get.”

  “But, your father,” Gallif trailed off not sure how to continue.

  “He’s dead. I know,” she said openly and correctly read the surprise on Gallif’s face. “I saw the body in the other cell. Thank you for not telling my mother.”

  “I just couldn’t add more to what was happening,” Gallif shook her head. “But I don’t feel right giving her false hope.”

  “I’ll tell her when things have quieted down,” Ellis said. “Please, take this,” she said and handed the armor over.

  Gallif carefully accepted it and wrapped her arms around it. “Thank you,” Gallif said.

  “I just have one favor to ask you,” Ellis spoke almost hesitantly.

  “Sure.”

  “Before you go,” she said as the first hint of tears started to form. “I want to tell you about my dad.”

  ***

  Gallif’s first task for the day was to go back to the temple of Tebiet and check on Snow. It felt good to see the pure white companion again and she quickly brushed some dirt off of her coat. She knew that Snow sensed there was something different about her. Whatever had happened since they had parted company was very big. Snow nuzzled her long face against Gallif’s shoulder to let her know that things would be okay. Snow also took a sniff of the new armor and gave it an approving snort.

  She heard the sound of another horse and rider approaching and turned to see Kavelle enter. She quickly dismounted and came to her.

  “When did you get here?” Kavelle asked.

  “Just a few minutes ago.”

  “Okay,” she said and Gallif thought she might actually have been concerned. “I’ve talked to Brox.”

  “When are we leaving?” Gallif asked with rising excitement.

  “Tomorrow afternoon?”

  “Tomorrow? Why so long?”

  “He’s a very busy guide,” she said as she shook her head. She tied her horse’s reins to a post as she spoke. “He had another party ready to go and I had to get him to cut that one. It cost a lot just to get him to do that,” she said. Then she added, “I did the best I could.”

  “I know,” Gallif answered and continued brushing Snow’s coat.

  “So far nobody has made any connections with the name Zaslow. We are going over their scrolls and talking to the other temples here on the east slope.” Kavelle paused and took several deep breaths before continuing. “I sent riders out this morning to tell other groups what we’ve discovered. I also told them about Tome.”

  Gallif stopped her work on her companion and finally turned to Kavelle. “Will someone notify his family?”

  “There is none,” Kavelle said after a moment.

  “He mentioned having a father,” Gallif pointed out trying not to sound accusative.

  “Yes, he had a father,” Kavelle said, “but he’s dead. He was killed when he surprised a burglar in his home one night.”

  Neither of them spoke for a while and remembered their own personal connections with the man.

  “Will there be a replacement?” Gallif asked to break the silence.

  “No. They won’t be able to send anyone in time.”

  “So, we have you, me and Maura?”

  “I’m glad she’s coming,” Kavelle said. She looked away for a second and added, “Brox will have one of his own to assist. Some hired sword he said he always travels with.”

  “Fair enough. We’ll have to get special equipment for the horses.”

  Kavelle swallowed hard and said, “I’m not sure what we’ll need.”

  “Hoods to protect their eyes and faces will be important. Their legs are very sensitive so we have to be careful how we cover them. I’ll make sure everything is here by tonight,” Gallif said.

  “I’ve been thinking about this Zaslow. He must be incredibly powerful. One of the agents talked about using a focus, like that gol
d and red pendant we found on Tasker, to spy on or control people from a distance. Plus, everything else we came across up there. The amount of mental energy it takes to control that much casting is beyond anything anyone has ever seen.”

  “So there may be others?” Gallif asked though she knew the answer.

  “Yes,” she said as she dropped the straw. “Giants, most likely.”

  “Just how far are we from the ice fields?”

  “There are some maps of the area between here and there. Follow me.”

  With that they both went into the temple office. From the dusty shelves Kavelle pulled several rolled parchments. She laid them out on the table for Gallif to study. The curtains were drawn, and several candles were burning to keep the room lighted.

  “I have to make preparations,” Kavelle said. “Make sure everyone who should be updated is updated. I also thought you’d like to know the dwarven temple at the bottom end of east slope is going to have a memorial to Linea tonight.”

  Gallif looked up and felt pangs of guilt run up her spine. There had been so much going on she hadn’t had time to even think of Linea and her family. “Of course,” Gallif said. “I’ll be there.”

  “Me, too,” Kavelle said and left the room.

  Gallif sat for several minutes, not really studying the maps but just looking at the paper. Finally, she looked around the room to make sure there wasn’t anything important she was missing. On one of the shelves the totem that they had found with the giant in the sewers was still sitting on its end just where Tome had set it. It seemed almost familiar for a second and she tried to decipher the whispers from her memory. Eventually she realized that the way it sat now, with the flickering candlelight and shadows on its side, reminded her of sunrise against Starpoint Mountain. She decided she was just feeling a bit homesick and studied the maps in deep concentration.

  ***

  It was afternoon when she returned to the hotel she had spent the first night in Primor in. She didn’t say a word to anyone as she made her way up to her room and started checking through everything.

  She made sure the twelve-inch knife was strapped to her side. She put three bottles of healing potion in the cast backpack and put the other two in a pouch she would wear slung over her shoulder. There were two bags of the powder that could cancel the effects on an item, and she hung them around her belt. She smiled as she comfortably fit the necklace that Rosario had given her around her throat. She put the blankets she would need in the regular backpack and started packing the clothes, food, and other items into the gift Rayjen had given her. The red cloth bag that Luvin had tried so desperately to steal so many times went under the straps of leather skirt like always. She opened her purse and all the extra bags she had onto the bed to make an inventory of how much she could buy for the trip.

  There was a glimmer of something in a fold in the blanket that caught her eye and an icy cold shiver gripped her. She parted the fold and saw a pendant made of gold with a red stone in it. She stared at it without blinking or breathing for several minutes.

  Why was this here? How was this here?

  She sat on the floor with her arms resting on the bed. She closed her eyes and put a hand to her head. With the other she gripped the pendant and squeezed it tightly.

  Where was this from?

  She forced herself to concentrate and tried to pull images from her memory. She remembered being at the table downstairs. Who bought her a drink? The nice-looking man. He, however, was not the one who was sitting next to her.

  How did she get it? Did she find it?

  Someone was giving her something... Handing her a drink... Giving her a pendant so she could contact him... Could he contact her? Drinking the ale that tasted very good.

  Who was he? Why was he there?

  A man... A stranger? More, she demanded of her whispers, she must have more!

  The face... A face... Zaslow’s face next to her... Smiling at her. Holding her up with puppet strings.

  What had she told him?

  Suddenly she was bolted back to the room by the feel of a searing heat in her hand. She jumped back dropping the white-hot pendant on the floor. Very quickly smoke rose from the wood and as fast as she could she dropped one of the bags of black powder onto the pendant. It burst like a bubble and the pendant stopped glowing. All that was left was an ugly melted chunk of metal and stone. The floor was still smoking and she used the blanket from the bed to smother the hot wood.

  As she regained her breath she thought about what had happened with Zaslow not so long ago. It was like watching a play or performance by someone else on Festival Day. Like taking part in the conversation but she could only see it from a distance.

  A question. He was asking her something. Where was her home?

  Despite her efforts to concentrate and hold the images they quickly faded away leaving her staring the floor.

  She collected the coins, jewels, even the burnt pendant into her purse, and threw the bag over her shoulders, gathered the rest and left the room. She tossed a few human coins on the counter before leaving the building without saying a word. She didn’t notice the shadow form that had been in the hallway to her room exit the building behind her.

  She filled the saddle bags with as much as she could and carefully balanced the rest on Snow’s hind. She climbed into the saddle and then paused for a moment to look around. She pulled the lump of charred gold and red stone from one of her bags, looked at it closely, and then threw it into the dirt as she rode off.

  She didn’t see a man walk from the shadows of an alley and pick up the disfigured pendant.

  Gallif did her best to keep busy and try to get herself to believe that it was business as usual. First, she found a place to get all the supplies that they would need for the horses. She paid for them and ordered that they should be delivered to Tebiet’s temple on the east slope.

  By noon the streets were busy and as she walked back to where Snow waited she stopped in her tracks and suddenly turned back. She could have sworn someone had called her name. She stood and listened carefully and hoped the call would be repeated. She found a bench near a store to stand on and looked in every direction, but, other than a few fleeting glances and a wink from an elderly gentleman, no one was paying attention to her. She continued on and quickly mounted Snow.

  She checked in at a few places and asked if anyone had seen or heard of anyone called Zaslow but other than a few vague stories she found nothing.

  After a while she found herself at the amazing fountain she had seen from a distance when she was approaching the city. It was as spectacular as it had seemed and was truly a marvel of construction. She stopped and watched as several children played in the fountain only to be chased off by a local official. She smiled at the memory of her and her brother playing in fountains so long ago. Then the smile vanished as she remembered how some nights she would have to sneak into a fountain to get the closest thing to a bath. She dismounted Snow and walked toward the fountain.

  Again, she thought she could hear, above the noise of the crowd, someone calling her name. She listened carefully and jumped on the edge of the fountain pool to look around the area.

  “Eh,” she heard a deep voice cough to get her attention.

  “What?” She looked down to see the face of the city official she had seen scolding the children and chasing them away. “Did you just call for me?”

  “No, miss, but I am now asking you to get off the fountain,” the man said sternly.

  “Of course,” she said politely and jumped down to the dry stones.

  She returned to Snow and was just about to mount the saddle when once again she thought she heard her name being called. She turned quickly and saw a man just as he disappeared into the space between two large buildings. She sprinted in the direction the man had gone. She was tempted to pull her sword as she ran but feared the flames would attract too much attention. Instead she had the knife in her hand as she rounded the corner into the alley.
>
  It was a dark alley with various crates and barrels at locations along the way. She shook her head and slowly dropped the hand with the knife to her side. She wasn’t stupid enough to walk into a blind alley like this unprotected. She just hoped that whoever was waiting for her didn’t know that.

  She took slow and careful footsteps as she moved down the alley trying to look as much of a target as was possible. Keeping her head pointed forward but her eyes darting from left to right as she made sure there was nothing unusual. Several minutes later she stopped at the end of the alley and looked around in confusion. She had found nothing and wondered how she could have been so wrong.

  She had taken a few steps when she was struck from behind with a large mace. Had she been wearing armor that had no casting protection she would have died instantly. She gasped for breath and knew that she had serious injuries. She used every ounce of her strength to prevent herself from falling to the ground and stumbled against the wall. She grit her teeth to stop from screaming in pain, transferred the knife from her right hand to her left, and pulled the flame sword as she turned to face her cowardly attacker.

  The alley was empty. She could see no one else in the area. She stayed tense, ready to fight, and suddenly felt a rush of air as something sailed past her head. Out of reflex she dropped back and swung the flame sword in several arcs in front of her.

  She knew just how much trouble she was in. She knew that her attacker was using invisibility casting.

  She stopped, listened, hoped for a target to present itself. She sensed the rush coming at her again and ducked down while jabbing the flame sword forward. It encountered something in midair and was deflected. She couldn’t tell if she had done much damage to her attacker, but she knew she had hit something.

  She stepped forward this time keeping the flame sword in front of her. She looked at the crates and barrels in the alley to see if there was anything that could aid her defense.

  She felt a third attack coming and out of instinct stepped to the right. Unfortunately, she was off on this step and felt part of the mace strike her right arm. It wasn’t bad. She knew the armor had taken most of the damage, so she could keep fighting. She kept swinging the flame sword in wide arcs so that whoever, or whatever, her invisible attacker was it could not get past her and strike her from behind.